She didn't ask what era this was; it was clear she longed for death and cared nothing for what was happening in the outside world.
Charles raised an eyebrow, gauging her expression, and replied cautiously, "As far as I know, your homeland no longer exists… Over a thousand years have passed since your time…"
Watching closely, Charles saw sorrow sweep across the Mummy's face. "If it's gone, so be it. Kings who sell their own people, even their own daughters, don't deserve to keep their honor or dignity."
Charles and Anno went silent, curiosity eating them alive, dying to know the stories behind her words.
But in the end, Charles curbed his urge to pry and cleared his throat. "Alright, we promise to fulfill your wish. But, as you know, Blacksoil Continent is a great distance from this sealed island."
"That journey is no small thing—we can't set off on a whim. So, I'm going to need you to do us a favor first."
Anno turned, puzzled, not sure what he was planning now. The Mummy simply nodded, unsurprised. "Go on."
Charles's heart thudded. This plan was spur-of-the-moment and not fully thought through: "There's still one more cavern, with undead who haven't found rest—and let's be real, whoever's in there probably isn't as… reasonable as you."
"So, I'd like you to help us and eliminate the undead in the last cavern. What do you think?"
Undead are immune to the 9th-level spell Power Word Kill!
This Mummy, having already died once, couldn't be felled by that spell again, right?
And Power Word Kill's casting range is extremely limited. If the Mummy agreed to work with them, she could go in front and coax the Lich inside to waste his Power Word Kill on her. That old Lich—sealed for so many centuries—was probably half-mad and unlikely to tell the difference.
Once the spell was spent, Charles and his team could move in to take the Lich down—according to challenge rating, a Lich that could cast 9th-level spells was by far the deadliest of the four, and also worth the most experience. If the Mummy agreed, Charles could snatch all that Purification Points for himself!
But… would she agree?
For a moment, the Mummy's brows knit. Then, softly, she replied, "It's not that I'm unwilling to help. But since you've read those ancient records, you must know—the true master of this island, his strength is beyond formidable."
"I fear that even working together, we may not be able to put him to rest."
Charles replied quickly, "We don't need to put him to rest. We just need the Lich eliminated from the last cavern—that's all!"
At that, the Mummy's eyes flickered, surprised. "You really did your homework, didn't you?"
Charles chuckled. "That's what the old records say—I'm just following the walkthrough. Madam, I know my own limits; I wouldn't challenge a foe so much stronger than us without reason."
He fixed the Mummy with an earnest look. "So, what do you think?"
Honestly, he was a little surprised. This Mummy was more reasonable than expected—she even warned him not to tangle with the fallen prince, a far cry from the entirely deranged miniboss in the game.
This time, hearing him out, the Mummy no longer saw reason to refuse. "Fine, I agree. While that Lich was a legendary spellcaster in life, the two of us together should be able to put him in eternal sleep."
Charles exhaled, a relieved smile breaking across his face. "Thank you for your understanding. By the way, I'm Nigel Charles. These are Hattie and Theresa, and this is Anno Amcastra. May I ask your name?"
The Mummy parted her lips: "Fatima Elrafien."
With that, she stood—without disturbing even a whiff of air—floating gently above the ground. "I'm in good shape. Ready for battle whenever you are. When do you want to move?"
Charles considered the state of the battle nuns. "Tomorrow morning. That's when we'll face the Lich."
Fatima nodded. "Very well. In that case, I'll return to my coffin for the night."
"You may take my sarcophagus aboard your ship for safekeeping. Come morning, whenever you're ready for battle, simply wake me."
With hardly any sign of magic force, the heavy sarcophagus lid floated up behind her. Fatima folded her hands over her lower abdomen, then drifted into the open coffin, laid herself down, and the lid closed softly over her—motionless and silent.
Anno blinked, then tugged Charles back a few steps, waiting till they'd retreated from the crypt before whispering, "You really trust this undead?"
Charles replied, "Why not? She wants to die—remember, her first wish was for us to kill her and scatter her ashes in the desert."
"But since she's so strong—and useful—I just suggested she help us with one thing before she goes."
Anno was silent for a moment, then nodded. "Makes sense. So what now? Move her sarcophagus?"
Charles nodded. "Yeah, let's get her out of here. It's good to have her help—without her, we probably couldn't handle that Lich anyway!"
With that, he called Hattie and Theresa to help him cast spells and carefully levitate the heavy sarcophagus out of the cavern.
Nothing went wrong this time—they made it outside, where the sight of them transporting the coffin drew startled exclamations from the battle nuns.
Charles calmed them, instructed everyone to return to the ship and rest up, ready for tomorrow's fight.
The next morning.
With the sun high overhead, the nuns formed up on the beach once more. Charles roused Fatima from her slumber and brought her along for the confrontation.
Seeing her—beautiful, bandage-wrapped, with a figure that left little to the imagination—the battle nuns couldn't help but gawk with a blend of curiosity and unease.
Charles simply explained she was a new ally and told everyone to relax, assuring them there was no need for alarm.
Once all was settled, he climbed to the final cavern's mouth, hefted his twin-bladed polearm, and chopped down the right tree.
Again, that familiar quake thundered. The awakened undead poured from the cave, screams carrying as they charged the nuns standing watch on the shore. Fatima was about to join in, but Charles held her back, telling her to save her mana for the Lich.
So they stood by, watching as hundreds of ghouls, skeletons, and banshees surged like a black tide against the battle nuns' lines.
But the nuns' formation didn't budge an inch. They smoothly blocked every attack with their tower shields, letting lightning rebound off the incoming hits, then countered with heavy maces to skulls and shoulders.
The old skeletons, brittle with age, simply couldn't stand up to the crushing blows; one hit to the shoulder and an entire arm might fall off, disabling them in an instant.
What should have been a close battle was, in reality, a clear-cut massacre in the nuns' favor.
Fatima herself started out with little interest in the battle—being undead, her warped senses and constant misery left her distracted and inwardly focused.
But when she watched the battle nuns at work—especially the storm nuns hurling lightning with such mastery—even she was a little impressed. "Are all your women warriors spellcasters?" she asked.
Charles nodded. "Yes, though their levels are low. Most only master a handful of first-level spells."
"Incredible," Fatima breathed, awestruck despite her undead detachment. "In my own kingdom—or his—even if you combined both realms, we wouldn't have half as organized or well-trained a troop of spellcasting warriors…"
It was true. Spellcasting talent was distributed more or less equally among the population, so mages often varied wildly in background and temperament, were fiercely independent, and notoriously difficult to forge into a real army.
A sudden sadness overtook Fatima. "If only we'd had such power back then… perhaps things could have been different."
Charles offered no response—what could he even say? Nearby, Anno seemed quietly touched, gripping her sword a little tighter.
She thought of Liberl Port, and swore in her heart to keep her city safe—unspoiled forever by the chaos of the world.
Fatima, still marveling, studied the nuns' snowy hair, then glanced again at Charles. "Are you a noble of the Empire of Sein?"
She knew of Sein, of course—it was the ancient civilization that had stood for over eight thousand years.
In fact, the Empire of Sein was already many millennia old when her ancestors founded her lost kingdom, so she'd always had the subconscious sense that, though her own country was long gone, Sein would always endure.
Charles shook his head. "Not me—she is. Her family is ducal; her father's a marquis, and currently the Minister of Transport in Liberl Port."
Anno held her chin high, proud, and Charles continued, "I train the nuns, but their mana is all thanks to the Goddess of Life."
He was being humble, but, as a one-time princess, Fatima could read between the lines. This was a self-made man favored by the goddess, leading a force of Chosen Ones. Even the marquis's daughter was following him of her own free will!
She actually felt like chatting for the first time in a long while, wanting to hear what the world had become. But just then Theresa, still holding the magical light, called out, "The Lich is coming! Get ready!"
As the words fell, a tall figure slowly emerged from the cavern.
He was a dried-up corpse, a skeleton covered in a layer of shriveled skin, draped in a tattered blue robe marked with gold stars, propping himself up with a thick staff, shuddering with intense magical energy.
"That's him!"
No more time for talk. Charles barked, "Stick to the plan—Fatima, madam, you go first!"
Fatima nodded, putting her questions aside. "Agreed. I'll go ahead."
In a heartbeat, she leapt into the air, her bandages unfurling in a wave.
For a second, Charles braced himself to see her exposed in the open, but her form and bandages dissolved into a whirl of golden sand, spinning forward like a summoned storm.
He couldn't help but avert his eyes with a hint of regret.
But then, he noticed Anno grinning slyly at him—and a cold sweat broke over him. "What's up, dear? Why are you looking at me like that?"
Anno went up on tiptoe, leaned in, and whispered, "You wanted to see Fatima naked, didn't you?"
Charles shivered, quickly shaking his head. "No, absolutely not! I have nothing but respect for madam Fatima's sacrifice—no blasphemous thoughts at all!"
Anno sniffed. "I'll take your word for it. But…"
She blushed, whispering in his ear, "Amazon women are one thing, but you better not set your sights on any other ladies, you hear?"
Charles caught the look on her face, nodded furiously, but inwardly heaved a sigh of relief. At least this girl was reasonable, he thought.
Out ahead, Fatima reformed from sand and engaged the Lich in battle.
Both were powerful ancient spellcasters, pouring out magic in styles truly unique—but when it came down to it, their attacks did little more than scratch at each other.
Fatima could whip up storms of sand, blinding the Lich's eyes and scraping his body—but he was undead, his eyes already rotted, and his magical shield blunted most of her assaults anyway.
The Lich was a master of all the necromantic arts—Blight, Circle of Death, Finger of Death, you name it. But Fatima was undead too, practically immune to all of them.
So they spent several rounds just scratching each other, with Fatima at least ruffling the Lich a little, while the Lich, unless he suddenly had the sense to switch to firebolts or frost rays, couldn't hurt her at all.
"Ugh…"
At last, the Lich—frustrated that none of his spells were working—snapped. He raised a withered finger and uttered the devastating words: "Power Word Kill!"
Buzz—
A dreadful wave of magic pressure slammed into Fatima's mind—the Mummy stalled a moment, then, as if nothing had happened, continued her spellcasting.
"That's it!"
Hearing the spell's lethal incantation, Charles was electrified. "That's his ninth-level spell down—Hattie, Anno, let's go!"
He charged in with his twin-bladed polearm. Hattie and Anno followed; behind, Nymeria pouted a little, sulking as she watched the melee.
The Lich was so fragile that Charles was worried one hit would kill him before he could be purified, so he left Nymeria and Theresa in reserve while the three of them advanced.
"You… die!"
Sensing their approach, the Lich twisted, raised his hand, and chanted again: "Circle of Death!"
6th-level spell—Circle of Death!
A torrent of necrotic power surged, forming a vast circle trapping the party. Charles felt a biting chill gnawing through him, but right away, the paladin's golden Aura of Protection washed those feelings away.
He turned to Anno with a grateful nod. At that moment, the enemy was right in front of them!
Hattie conjured black mist, several thick tentacles wrapping tight around the Lich's legs, pinning him down. This guy wasn't a brute like the Death Knight—his frail frame had next to no physical strength and could only rely on magic!
Charles stepped up, swinging an Eldritch Smite into the Lich's chest—a surge of power like a battering ram. The fragile Lich toppled, rolling several times across the ground.
Anno didn't waste a Divine Smite, simply kept close with her protective aura flaring. As long as she was nearby, Charles had all the confidence in the world, hacking and slashing, purifying the Lich completely.
The Lich tried to retaliate but was already helpless. With one last wail, his body was purified to dust, his ragged robe and staff left behind on the ground for Charles to claim.
With that, the battle was over.
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